The School Trip
by thethingthathasnoname
Summary: What will happen when Form Special K heads out on a residential school trip for a whole week? And Stephen is forced to share a room with Frank Grayson of all people? All I'm saying is beach visits and late night conversations and showers. And double beds. Mainly focused on Graymichael fluff but with a side of Rem Dogg and Mitchell cuteness.


**The School Trip**

"But siiiir…" Chantelle whined for the hundredth time. "Why can't Steph and I share a room?"

Form K were on a residential school trip (that the rest of the year had already done a few months ago but Alfie hadn't sorted the paper work in time) somewhere up North – no one really knew exactly where – they doubted even the locals knew – but no one really cared. Everyone was buzzing about the prospect of being away for a whole week. Sure, the hotel was a little run down and creepy. And they were pretty sure the guy at the reception was going to drop dead at any time. But they were together. For an entire week. Cool.

"Because, Chantelle," Alfie sighed, tired of this conversation. "It is against school policy to allow girls and boys to share rooms. Now, Rem Dogg and Mitchell, you will be sharing. Come and get your room key. Room 4. Don't lose it."

"Sick!" Mitchell exclaimed, high fiving Remmie on the way to the front.

"Oh come on, sir. It's more likely that _they're_ going to fuck than me and Stephen." Chantelle groaned.

"Hey! Shut up, blow job!" Mitchell sneered at her, immediately flushing red at the mere thought.

"Chantelle, drop it." Alfie instructed, trying to sound commanding and in control, but failing rather dismally. "You will be sharing with Jing. Here is your key. Room 6."

Chantelle sighed and sashayed forwards, snatched the key, dropped a wink at Alfie anyway, and then moped over to stand next to Jing.

"And that leaves Stephen and, er, Grayson." Alfie mumbled, not looking at either of them and stumbling over his words in a haste to get them out and be done with this. "Here's your key. Room 18. Joe, you're with me. Room 3. Has everyone got a room, a partner and a key? Good, good, let's go."

"Woah, wait up!" Stephen protested. "I have to share with Grayson? And why are we so far away from everyone else?!"

"I'm sorry, Stephen, that's just the way it is." Alfie shrugged.

But then Grayson spoke. "I ain't sharing with no bender." His voice was low and threatening, and despite the fact that the others had been chatting excitedly, there was now silence.

"Well, er…" Alfie looked like he was about to shit himself. "I'm afraid, Grayson, that you have to share with someone, and everyone else is taken."

Grayson glared at him, steel eyes unblinking.

Stephen nearly burst out in outrage at the blatant homophobia and the lack of attempt to rectify that, but one look at Grayson and he suddenly didn't feel like it. It wasn't that he was scared of Grayson… he just didn't feel like getting punched.

"Come on, class. Let's go. Everyone to your rooms. Meeting back here at 11:00." And with that, Alfie dashed off down the corridor, Joe in tow.

Rem Dogg and Mitchell left as well, grinning and celebrating their success, and sharing their excitement for the week.

Chantelle at least had the decency to reach out and grab Stephen's hand giving him a comforting squeeze and a sympathetic smile, before she too disappeared, babbling animatedly to Jing.

Stephen stood stock still, slightly in shock.

He dared to glance to the side at Grayson and found him still glowering at where Alfie had just departed.

They stood there awkwardly for a while, neither one speaking, neither one moving.

"Er, Grayson?" Stephen tried eventually.

He didn't reply.

"Frank?" He attempted again.

Still no reply.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Stephen sighed dramatically, already tiring of the way that Grayson was treating him. "I'm going to the room."

And he set off down the corridor. He passed room 3, room 4, room 6, where all the others were happily settling down no doubt, laughing cheerily about all the fun they were going to have together. He kept on walking, searching for room 18, dragging his heavy suitcase behind him.

The corridor was long and windowless, with sharp turns and dead ends seemingly everywhere. Stephen was pretty sure he heard rats squeaking and he could definitely see spider's webs in every corner. He hoped the rooms were a little more… well kept.

It seemed like he had been walking for ages, but it had probably actually only been a couple of minutes, when he found it, at the very end of the corridor. There were literally 20 rooms in this bloody hotel. Why him? Why Frank Grayson? Why freaking room 18?

He reached into his pocket, scrabbling for the key. When suddenly, two strong hands grabbed him and spun him round, one clasping his mouth to stop the inevitable scream, the other pinning his shoulder to the wall.

Grayson loomed over him, teeth bared and eyes hard.

"I'm warning you, glee. If you try anything gay on me then it will be the last thing you ever do. Got it?" Grayson's hot breath stank of beer and cigarettes.

"Ew. Gross." Stephen squirmed, before realising what he had just done. His eyes widened in shock.

"What did you say?" Grayson pressed in even closer, lifting the hand that covered his mouth to slam it next to his head.

Stephen jumped. "Nothing, er, yeh, got it. Cool." He rambled desperately. As he said, he wasn't scared. He just didn't fancy being Grayson's latest punching bag for the week.

"Good. I'm only gonna do this cos squatting in the corridors in't my style, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea, faggot." Grayson's face was inches away from Stephen's and his body trapped his against the dirty wall. Stephen fought the urge to meet his gaze. Or to punch him. "I don't want you infecting me with your gay rainbow shit. The deal is, you leave me the fuck alone and stay out of my way and I won't beat you to a bloody pulp, ok?"

Stephen squeaked. "Ok."

"And if you try anything…" Grayson leant even closer to whisper directly into his ear. Stephen could feel every single muscle in Frank's chest pressed against his own and he could sense the beefy strength of the arms encaging him either side. The steamy breath trickled down his neck, giving him shivers. "I will end you."

And with that, Grayson stepped back, snatched the key from where Stephen's surprised grasp had gone slack and let himself into the room.

Stephen released the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding, and rested his head back against the wall.

Well, shit. That was horrific. Grayson was such a dick. And just ever so slightly attractive.

NO. His brain immediately shut down that thought. He would not let himself get turned on by bullying, homophobic Grayson being all threatening and shit. He would not let himself go there. Hadn't he been listening to a word the idiot had just been saying? _No, he was distracted by his body. Pressed up against his own._ Stop it. Shut up.

Oh hell.

Oh fuck.

Oh he hated him so freaking much.

Why him? Why me?

Fuck's sake.


End file.
